


The Analytical Engine

by RidiculousMavis



Category: Quacks (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RidiculousMavis/pseuds/RidiculousMavis
Summary: The gang go to a presentation on the Analytical Engine by Ada Lovelace. Leading to inspiration and a large quantity of drugs, as usual.





	The Analytical Engine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/gifts).



> Thanks to SK for betaing and for the lovely, enthusiastic prompts from afterism! I hope you have a great Yuletide.

“There is a lecture I would like to attend tonight,” Caroline began, to a reception of groans and dark mutterings around the table. The assembled gentlemen felt they had only just made it away from work and lectures to what they had thought was neutral ground at the pub. Caroline had been waiting for them.

William was determined to win the prize for most attentive. “Who is giving it?”

“Mrs Ada Lovelace. She is a mathematician and analyst.” Caroline thought it prudent not to add that Mrs Lovelace also styled herself as a metaphysician. “Mr Charles Babbage has built a machine that can do maths and she intends to teach it other subjects.”

At which point Robert interjected. “I’m sorry, what on earth are you talking about?”

“The analytical engine. It sounds marvellous. Mrs Lovelace has written an algorithm.” Caroline expressed the word ‘algorithm’ with deepest reverence.

“Which is what, exactly?”

“I am not entirely sure but no doubt that is what we will find out tonight.”

* * *

John was agreeable, always with more than half his mine in the future and his interest further piqued as Mrs Lovelace was the daughter of Lord Byron, something of an inspiration of his. William was agreeable to anything that Caroline devised and wished only to bask in her glow. Robert was agreeable, having nothing more interesting to do what with his wife and both his friends already being occupied.

As they listened to the Countess of Lovelace explain the analytical engine, the whole approach, her algorithm and its application, Caroline felt something akin to an epiphany. A pure rush of emotion, of motivation, of determination.

William snuck glances at Caroline’s rapt expression and felt such a clenching in his gut and a tightening of his heart.

John’s interest, having been piqued, was further stoked.

Robert’s overwhelming experience was in fact a deficit of feeling, namely a numbness in the posterior.

* * *

Afterwards there was a good deal of milling about as people discussed the proceedings and availed themselves of the refreshments.

“There might be something in this,” said John, pocketing several hors d’ouevres.

Robert was peeved. “What? Mathematics? They have to cater the functions to get the audience in the door. People bring their own food - and pay good money - to see my surgeries.”

“Analytical engines. Algorithms.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Anything, I suppose.” John always seemed immune to Robert’s scathing tones. “Imagine, one day, you could put your symptoms to a machine like that and it could tell you what disease you had.”

“Sounds like a recipe for paranoia and hysteria.” Robert dismissed the idea with a snort.

“I’m not sure it would be any less accurate than Dr Hendrick,” William noted philosophically.

“You could put your symptoms to a monkey and be in with as much luck of a cure as you would with Dr Hendrick,” Robert harrumphed.

“What about to help with your surgeries?” Caroline asked, though not with much chance of mollifying Robert at all.

“Oh, yes, Dr Frankenstein, perhaps we will invite a locomotive into the theatre. No, I shouldn’t get too excited about these ideas.”

“I wonder how you would feel if it were Charles Babbage or Luigi Menebrea presenting the ideas to you?”

“Just as bored, I should think. And I don’t think you would have been so interested had it not been a member of your own sex.”

“It’s only interesting because it’s rare,” Caroline retorted. “And it needn’t be rare. Harriet Martineau has written a most fascinating paper on medical treatment. If she had been a man you would have read it.”

Robert was perplexed. “How do you know all this? Is there a Handbook of Female Achievement? Is there a newsletter? Do I pay your subscription?”

* * *

While Robert found some rich old men to impress and John was induced to join a game of cards, Caroline flitted nervously around, with William never more than a few paces behind her.

“I would so love to speak with Mrs Lovelace more. But she will be very in demand,” fretted Caroline.

She and William peered through the crowd. Mrs Lovelace was surrounded by old grey men expounding it seemed at great length. Mrs Lovelace’s demeanour looked more or less as one might expect given this circumstance.

“I think,” William hazarded a cautious guess, “that she might rather prefer talking with you.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes,” he encouraged.

Caroline summoned all her courage and a little more besides by relieving William of his whiskey and taking it in one quick gulp. She skirted around the huddled groups debating the proceedings, towards her target.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt…” Caroline said as she approached.

“Not at all! “cried Mrs Lovelace.

“I wanted to say how utterly fascinating I found your presentation.”

“Thank you, so much,” said Mrs Lovelace. “That's very kind of you. Gentlemen, please do excuse..?”

“Oh, Mrs Lessing.”

“Mrs Lessing and I. Thank you, yes, thank you…” she bid farewell to her admirers, who shot grudging glances Caroline's way.

“Really,” Mrs Lovelace said, gripping Caroline's arm. “You are very kind to come to the rescue.”

“Not at all,” demurred Caroline, totally charmed. “Although I did very much enjoy your presentation. Not just enjoy - that is too genteel a word for it. I found it thrilling.”

Mrs Lovelace beamed. “Thank you. Most of the audience only wants to tell me the error of my ways.”

“Are they experienced in the field themselves?”

“No, but have you ever known that to be an impediment to men giving you their opinion?” It was conspiratorial

Caroline laughed. “No, never,” she admitted. “I confess I had very little knowledge of the concepts myself, before today. Now I find myself even more lacking.”

“What do you have knowledge in?”

“Well, I study medicine. I should like to be a doctor.”

“Intriguing!” Mrs Lovelace exclaimed. “A noble profession to further the emancipation of our sex.”

“I should like to have a great ambition. To change the world. But there is so much that needs changing.”

“You must think, Mrs Lessing, about the future as you envisage it and then what that future will need from you.”

“Women’s medicine?”

“Indeed. If women are to gain rights over themselves they will need their own medicine and their own medical practitioners. Equally, this understanding promotes our rights, in turn.”

“That we will not lose possession of our wombs if we travel by railway?” They shared a brief, frustrated laugh at the idea. “And the analytical engine? You believe it is the future?”

“I believe not it, but the concept, is the beginning of a future we cannot even imagine.”

“It sounds wonderful. I should like to believe in something with such conviction.”

“Oh but I think you do, Mrs Lessing. You need only allow that passion free reign.”

“I think my husband would prefer more reining in.” Caroline laughed, but Ada did not and Caroline’s levity made her feel ashamed.

“There are always detractors.”

“He is quite brilliant himself. Focussed.”

“Which perhaps blinds him to the brilliance of others?”

“I would not count myself in that category.”

“I think I would. I know our acquaintance has been brief but I recognise your passion. You are unafraid to speak your mind and that is worth a good deal.”

“I should so like to talk to you more. I wonder - my friend John has a great deal of experimental drugs and I find them not only enjoyable but wonderful for expanding the mind - would you like to join us?”

* * *

“Mrs Lovelace has some business to attend to with Mr Babbage, then she will be joining us at John’s for some horizon-broadening hallucinogens.”

“Post show entertainment,” John smiled. “Very nice.”

William was aghast. “You can’t ask Byron’s daughter to take drugs with you!”

But she had, and Byron’s daughter did. At John’s they imbibed a great many interesting substances in a great many quantities. The Countess held their rapt attention - even Robert’s when he had partaken in some random leaves, draughts and more of the delightful cocaine wine.

“Imagine a future -” she opined, “where we can communicate instantly with any other person situated anywhere on the globe. My good friend Mr Wheatstone is working on telegraphy that in years to come will allow just such a thing. I know a Mr Andrew Crosse who can store electricity in a voltaic pile so that it can be used at a later time. Mr Faraday seems to find a new possibility in electricity or magnetism every day. Then there is Mr Babbage’s analytical engine and I hope some contributions I can make. The world is changing, so quickly.”

* * *

The night took on a vague impression in their minds the next day. How Caroline and Robert had managed to get home they did not quite know. William woke to his face being kindly washed by Ben as he lay spreadeagled on John’s floor.

It was as if the night itself were a hallucination, or a dream. But it had a more lasting imprint it than just their collective hangovers. In Caroline it formed a new conviction and even steelier determination.

Once she had taken a draught or two - disdaining a concoction John promised would right all the ills of the world - and had several cups of strong tea, eaten a good meal and then almost immediately relieved herself of the same, followed by a long nap, she approached the resolution to immediately begin work on her clinic with great energy and enthusiasm, ready for this new future.


End file.
